


On Your Toes

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actually there might be idk, Beka rooms with JJ, Depends on who I find, Georgi rooms with Yuri, I'm Sorry, I'm desperate for attention, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Might be co-written on a few chapters, Mila is his TA, Musical-arts college AU, Mutual Pining, No Smut, On Hold, Otabek is Otashook, Otabek is a street-dancer, Please read, Some intense angst for maybe two or three chapters, Victor teaches street dancing, Yuri is a Ballerina, Yuuri teaches Ballet, idk yet, probably not tho, slow-burn(ish), tag abuse hA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Yuri Plisetsky is a ballerina.In which Otabek is a street dancer.In which I still suck at writing summaries.





	1. Chapter One- Late

Today was going great. Absolutely fantastic. Yuri had been up almost all night consoling his roommate, Georgi, who was crying his eyes out for hours about that slimy bitch, Anya, who'd dumped him a few days before for some American transfer. As a result, not only did he only get two hours of sleep, he was also twenty minutes late for class and had to take a five minute shower to wake him up. The water was freezing and he didn't have time to wait for it to warm. He'd dressed, still dripping wet, and sprinted out the door, only to realize he'd forgotten his ballet gear in his dorm.  
  
It took him a good ten more minutes to finally, _finally_ collect his nerves, drinking plain black coffee- which he'd taken another ten minute detour to the campus Starbucks for- like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Yuri didn't even _like_ coffee. It was fucking cold outside- and it was a cloudy early afternoon in Russia, what could he expect?- and Yuri didn't even have time to dry off. _I'm gonna get fucking sick like this._ His phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he grabbed it, still jogging through the courtyard connecting the dorms and the dance studio. It was from that stupid Yuuri Katsuki's teacher assistant, Mila.  
  
**Where r you?? Lilias pissed as FUck haha**  
  
Yuri stared at the words and groaned, closing his eyes. Of all the days his pig of an instructor had to find a sub, it had to be today. _Of course._ He wrote up some half-assed response about oversleeping and suddenly slammed into something very solid, his Starbucks cup leaving his grip as he stumbled back, cussing in surprise. "What the fuck!?" He snarled, only to stop short, almost gaping at the person he'd run into. It was Otabek Altin, a transfer student from Kazakhstan. Ever since Yuuri and his husband started up a YouTube channel for each class, people started flocking towards him. Yuri himself had a sizeable amount of fans, but they weren't kind and caring so much as obsessive and loud. Hormonal, too. Yuri would rather die than begin to think about the things they've imagined about him.  
  
He wouldn't have cared about running into him had it not been for the fact that he, too, somewhat idolized- was that the right word? Maybe, to a degree- the Kazakh... And he'd just spilled hot coffee all over him. _Shit._ Today just kept getting better and better. For a second, all they could do was stare at each other, before they simultaneously blinked and reacted- Otabek, grabbing at his shirt to try and keep it from burning his skin, removing it in frustration as the liquid seeping into it scalded his fingers, and Yuri doing his damnedest not to stare at the six-pack he was met with.  
  
_Get a grip, Yuri, you're practically drooling._ He could almost hear Mila teasing him in his head, and scowled. "Watch where you're going!" The Russian snapped, pushing past a stunned, if not slightly offended, Otabek, knocking their shoulders together as he went. He looked pissed, but so did Yuri, and they were almost the same height, so Yuri wasn't intimidated. Still, he picked up the pace a bit as he took the stairs leading to the entrance of the studio two at a time. The studio itself was very large and very grand, having more than enough rooms to accommodate most different musical arts styles, except choir and band. Those two were in a different building.   
  
***  
  
"You're late." Lilia's voice cut into Yuri's skin like a knife coated in ice. He closed the door to the studio and slinks to the back of the room, towards the little changing stalls, with his warmup outfit tucked under one arm and his pointe shoes in his hand. He flinched a bit, looking back at her.  
"I overslept."  
"You have shadows under your eyes."  
"Roommate kept me up all night crying."  
"You're not going to waltz into class forty-five minutes late and interrupt the lesson. If it happens again you'll be sent back to your dorm for the day. We have a rehearsal coming up and if you're not going to take practice seriously, you'll be dropped."  
  
Yuri barely managed to keep from gaping at her. _Seriously? Is she fucking serious? She's threatening to take me out of the program?_   Yuri nearly felt like crying at that point. He'd only been awake for an hour or so and the day was seemingly already fixed on ruining itself for him. He nodded curtly and ducked into the changing stall while Lilia continued class, stalking to the barre on the side of the classroom when he finished to start his warm-ups.  
  
Lilia was extra harsh on him for the last fifteen minutes of class, telling him to stay forty-five minutes late after it ended to catch up on his performance. He understood Lilia's frustration, honestly, and couldn't blame her, but it didn't stop him from being snarky and rude for the rest of practice. Lilia drilled him until he was positive his toes were bleeding through his pointes, but when he stopped to check, the scabs were still there, still bandaged, though he sported new blisters around them that looked close to being rubbed open.  
  
His extra practice seemed to drag on forever, and his eyes were burning and head aching by the time it finally ended and Yuri was cleared to leave. He didn't, though, deciding to stretch a bit while Lilia went ahead of him, telling him to lock up when he left. So there he sat, back against the wall, eyes closed and earbuds in, trying to swallow back his frustration. He couldn't be dropped from the program, he needed the sponsors. If the school got money, Lilia got money, and Lilia was helping cover his grandpa's hospital expanses. He'd been getting less and less sleep every day since the past week, though, and his alarm clock was busted.  
  
_What the hell am I supposed to do?_


	2. Chapter Two- Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabean is Otashy

Otabek could barely focus during practice. His footwork was laggy, his mind was clouded, it didn’t matter- whatever it was, it was frustrating. Ever since he’d been body-checked by Yuri fucking Plisetsky, he hadn’t been paying any attention to his instructor and anyone else in the class could easily spot the mounting frustration between the two. 

“Otabek, is there something on your mind?” The Russian- Yuri was Russian, too, he recalled distractedly- tilted his head, guiding the Kazakh into the hallway. The ballet class next door was filtering into the hall, moving around them in a mass of quietly-talking twigs. He shook his head, averting his eyes.   
“I think I’m just worried about the next performance.” Where’s Yuri? He didn’t leave the classroom, yet, did he? 

The platinum-haired male smiled gently. “I understand. It’s normal to be nervous, да? Just don’t let the pressure get to you. You have plenty of time to worry later, but for now, let’s get back to practicing.” Otabek nodded.   
“Sorry, Mr. Nikiforov.”   
He clicked his tongue against his teeth, reminding him to, “for the last time,” call him Viktor. 

***

Class was dismissed about fifteen minutes later, and Otabek, sweating profusely, was happy to tug off his shirt in the safe isolation of the hallway, the water bottle he’d shoved into the bag holding his clothing finding its way to his lips. He was just about to leave when he realized the hallway wasn’t as quiet as he’d though. 

Quiet music filtered through the door to Ballet Studio A, a tune from Swan Lake the Kazakh had heard a few times before, which had been left a bit ajar. And there, when he peeked through the Plexiglass, was Yuri Plisetsky, eyes closed, hair braided back, and he was moving far more gracefully than Otabek could ever hope to. 

He should’ve moved back and left, honestly, but he was too caught up in watching the blond. He didn’t even notice that tiny detail of his eyes opening, and suddenly he was at the door, glaring furiously, yanking it open before Otabek even had time to process it.   
“What the hell are you staring at!?” The shorter of the two- though only by an inch or so- hissed, and Otabek was suddenly painfully aware of his lack of a shirt. 

The two of them flushed in equal measurements, and Otabek cleared his throat awkwardly, sticking his hand out.   
“Uh- sorry for bumping into you earlier- I’m Yuri- er- I’m Otabek, you’re Yuri- fuck.” He wanted to slam his head against the wall. “I’m Otabek Altin, I dance next door.” 

Yuri’s lips were quirked up in an amused smirk.   
“I know.” He replied. “You’re pretty YouTube-famous.”   
Otabek didn’t know what to do. Yuri Plisetsky, the star of the ballet portion of the school, knew his name? He felt like he was dreaming.   
“And also,” Yuri, somewhat grudgingly, took his hand. Holy shit. “Apology accepted, I guess.” 

“So- uh, friends?” Otabek asked, a bit hopefully, though he was doing his best to stay stone-faced. Yuri almost looked stunned. Almost. He watched the blond with bated breath for a few seconds too long, and was about to give up and withdraw his hand when Yuri… Nodded.   
“Why not?” 

***  
Otabek watched Yuri swivel around in his booth seat, the tip of a slice of pizza caught between his teeth as he used one hand to hold it by the crust and his other hand to hold his phone up, camera opened and front-facing. He shifted a bit to get a very unwilling Otabek in the shot, a smug smirk on his lips as he turned forward again and flashed the screen towards Otabek. He’d applied a filter that gave him cat ears and emphasized his eyes, with a caption. 

“Out with a friend.” 

This had to be a dream. It had to. Yuri fucking Plisetsky was calling him a friend, what else could it be? He stuffed another slice of pizza into his mouth to keep from grinning like an idiot.   
“When you’re done with that, you wanna head back to my dorm for a bit?” Yuri propped his elbows against the table. “I want to kick your ass at Mario Kart at some point.” He laughed a bit, then paused. “Oh, but my roommate’s been kind of down for a few days. Got dumped recently.” 

“Mm?” Otabek set his pizza on his plate. Yuri nodded.   
“He’s been keeping me up super late recently, too. All his crying and sniffling and wailing. It gets annoying.”   
“Well, then, how about we hang out at my place instead? My roommate is a bit obnoxious sometimes, but he’s a good guy otherwise. We could watch a movie and laugh at him getting scared.” 

Yuri flashed him another one of his heart-stopping grins. “Sounds like a plan.” 

***   
“Yo, Beks!” A voice greeted them from the living room as the two males entered the dorm, and Yuri turned his back to toe off his shoes, just as JJ walked the corner. He couldn’t really blame him for the next sentence to be spoken- Yuri did look very feminine, especially now that his hair was longer, but he wanted to curl up and die nonetheless. “Who’s the chick?”

Yuri paused, straightening quietly, and turned to look at the Canadian with an expression of murderous bloodlust set on his face. “Do I look like a chick to you?”   
JJ seemed startled. “Uh- Well-“   
“Actually, don’t answer that.” Yuri interrupts, shoving past him into the living room. JJ cast Otabek a look, an amused half-smile tugging at his lips.   
“Isn’t that-“  
“Shut up.” Otabek frowned at him, and he tossed his head back in a laugh. 

“Jesus, Beks, look at you go!” 

Otabek rolled his eyes with a groan. “Don’t make me kick you out.” He moved into the living room, ignoring JJ’s cry of “It’s my dorm, too!” and sitting a comfortable distance away from the seething ballerina. “Sorry about him,” he chuckled apologetically, “he’s a bit of an asshole sometimes. But like I said, Jean’s got a good heart in him. Somewhere.” 

As if summoned, JJ vaulted over the back of the couch the two of them sat on, plopping right in between them.   
“Please, Beks, you make me sound insufferable!” He laughed again, casting a glance at Yuri, who looked like a cat that didn’t know whether to be startled or annoyed. “I’m JJ. You must be-“  
“Shut up.” Yuri growled, much like Otabek had a few minutes prior. JJ put his hands up in a display of surrender.   
“Jeez, princess, okay. Calm down.” Clapping his hands, the Canadian grinned. “So! What should we do first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ, YOU WEREN'T INVITED--- Ahem. Hey hey! What did you guys think of this chapter? Same thing as before, I hope to have an update before the 19th- Friday- but I can't promise anything for now. But don't worry, I am fully intending to continue this series!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what'd you think? And no, Leo isn't the American Anya dumped my boyo for, no worries.   
> \---  
> Next update is scheduled to arrive by: Friday, January 19


End file.
